Awake
by studentnumber24601
Summary: Blink wakes up in a holding cell after the rally. Luckily, Mush is there to keep him company. Rated for slash, though it's quite fluffy. Aside from the police brutality, I mean...


[disclaimer: Disney's, not mine. Sniffle. Pout.]

**__**

Awake

The only reason I'm sure I'm alive is that being dead couldn't hurt this much. And being out cold certainly didn't, and I've been doing that for god only knows how long now, so I guess not only am I alive, I'm awake, too.

I really wish I wasn't.

My whole body aches, but my head is the worst. Every tiny noise I hear—and there's a lot of it—makes it throb, and I'm afraid it's just going to explode or something. I'm afraid to open my eye, I don't know where I am, but I know it ain't my bed. And wherever it is, I don't know how I got here. The last thing I remember is the policeman

Yeah, how about I don't think about that too hard? I remember the nightstick, pain exploding on the side of my face, and falling. Someone picked me up and then they knocked me down again, and that's where things stop being really clear. But I remember there was more pain after that, too, so I guess they didn't stop when I couldn't fight anymore. Bastard.

I even remember what I was thinking when I blacked out, though. I was thinking of Mush. After that first hit, I thought I might not make it, and the whole world was going black and I was scared, and so I thought of Mush. I don't know why. Just that whenever things go wrong, I think of him, and usually he's there to help.

I wish he was here now.

Maybe he is. I ain't opened my eye yet, 'cause if the noise is bad, I'm afraid the light will be worse. But I gotta know where I am, and I gotta see if he's here, to find out if he's okay. If he ain't, I don't know what I'll do

If he ain't _okay,_ I mean. I can handle it if he isn't here I think. I mean, I'm sure I can. Right. I don't need him, just 'cause I want him to be here. Just 'cause I want _him_

I didn't think that. Must be my head got rattled too bad when they hit me, I can't be thinking things like that about Mush. 'Cause he's my best friend. He's a _boy._ Yep, it was just the knock to my skull. I probably got a whatdayacallit, a concussion. That's all.

'Cept I started thinking like that about Mush awhile ago

I open my eye, figuring it's easier than thinking about Mush, but can't see much. I'm lying on my back on a really hard mattress, even worse than the lodging house's, and all I can tell you the ceiling is gray and looks like bricks or cinderblocks or something hard. I can hear people around me, talking, sometimes yelling. None of them too close, though.

I shut my eye. The light hurts.

"You awake, Blink?" a voice murmurs near me, and at that I open it again.

He _is_ here. I can't see him unless I move, but I know his voice better than I know my own. I think maybe I'm grinning now, which I should stop doing. It hurts a bit. But I can't help it, wherever I am, he's with me, and that means that things'll be okay.

"Yeah," I say, surprised at how weak my voice is, since it sounds so loud in my head. I wince from how loud it sounds, but that just makes me dizzy, and I shut my eye and try not to have to retch, 'cause that takes a lot of moving, and moving _hurts._

"You okay?" he asks, closer this time. Right by my ear, like if I turned my head I might be looking into his face, into those chocolate-y brown eyes of his, all concerned over me, maybe beaming at me all happy 'cause I'm okay. Maybe it would be worth moving to see that. So I try.

I give up real fast. Ow. But my eye's open again, and Mush moves so I can see him. And there are those _eyes_ of his. I love his eyes.

Concussion. That's all this is. Yeah.

"Hurts" I say aloud, though I had planned to say something more than that. I wish I could form better sentences, but don't think my brain is working that well. I can only think of two things: how much I hurt, and how glad I am Mush is with me. And, uh, I think I won't think any harder about either of them.

He makes himself comfortable and I wish I had both of my eyes so I could see where we are more without having to sit up. I got no whatdayacallit, side vision. Or depth perception half the time. I mean, I'm used to it and all, but it would be real nice to know where I am. 

Course, I could always ask. I mean, I ain't alone, wherever this is.

"Where?" I manage.

"Shhh," Mush tells me, then explains. "Jailhouse. Holding cell They got a bunch of us."

"Is everyone—Jack?" I ask, hoping he can piece together the two thoughts. _Is everyone okay?_ and _Did Jack escape?_ They blurred together in my mind somehow.

"Everyone I seen's okay," he tells me. "You was about the worst I was real worried you wasn't gonna wake up." He reaches out and puts a hand over mine. His skin is nice and warm, and even though his hands are all worn from carrying papers for years, they're awfully gentle and feel real smooth against mine 

"Jack?" I remind him, tearing my thoughts away from his skin, but certainly not pulling my hand away from his.

"Ain't seen 'im. I know they got 'im 'cause I was still around to see it, they grabbed me right after But he ain't with the rest of us."

My head's stopped spinning finally, and I want to see just what's going on. I take a deep breath and pull myself up, prop myself up on my elbows for a minute. I can see we're in a cell now, the walls are made of bars, and a few familiar figures lurk in the one across from ours. I glance around ours, and there's Mush, sitting on the sheetless bed next to me, and lying on a bed across from mine is Racetrack. He's asleep, but he's sprawled like he made himself comfortable, not like he's out the way I was.

Someone down the hall is yelling, and my head starts going off again. I mutter a swearword under my breath, and Mush gives me a worried look. He starts to move, puts a hand on my shoulder and presses down just a little bit, and I obediently lie back down. He takes that same gentle hand and runs a few fingers over my face, I guess where I got hit, and that sets off whole new worlds of pain. I wince away from him and he stops. "I just want ta get the blood off," he says.

I nod a tiny bit, and brace myself. He spits on his fingers and runs them over my cheek again, and I concentrate on how it's Mush's hand against my face instead of on how much it hurts. He finishes and wipes his hand on his pants. "How much blood?" I ask. Good, I'm starting to talk clearer now.

The yelling down the hall is peppered with nasty insults now, and incoherent screaming. There's the sounds of a fight, and someone else yelling, it sounds like someone's hurt pretty bad. And then an older voice yells something about locking the damn cell, keeping the damn kids under control, and isolating that son of a bitch And I can't help but smirk.

"That Conlon?" I ask.

"Sounds like," Mush agrees. "Musta taken a dozen guys to drag him in here, he yelled and fought the whole way. Gave a couple of 'em a few bruises, I think they musta hurt him pretty bad to get him to stop. But I guess he just woke up again."

Yeah, that sounds like Spot. I'm surprised they got him at all, I wonder how many of us are locked in here and how we're ever going to get out. _If_ we're ever going to get out But maybe be stuck in here with Mush wouldn't be so bad

I mean, he's my best friend. That's all I meant.

Aww, the hell with it. I ain't even fooling myself now. 

"So how'd they catch you?" I ask him.

Mush shrugs. He isn't beat up like I am, and I guess he didn't get hit like Racetrack, who I saw drop like a stone real early on. And he was still around to see them get _me,_ and I guess around to see them bring in Spot. So what happened? I have this nagging feeling, but don't want to pin my hopes on it

"Naw, really. You okay? You get hit?"

"Once or twice. Not too hard," he tells me. "I just saw they grabbed you an' everyone else, and wasn't gonna let you guys have all the fun."

"Jail ain't gonna be fun," I warn him.

"I know. I just didn't want to leave you all alone in here. I mean, who'd take care of ya, _that_ bum?" he asks, pointing over at Racetrack.

"You ain't gotta take care of me."

"Sure I do." He grins, and I swear my heart skips a beat. Some of the pain even goes away when he smiles at me like that. "That's what friends are for."

"Yeah," I agree, then a little hesitantly say, "And we's real good friends, right?"

"Best friends," he agrees, and puts his hand back over mine. I turn my own hand over, so I can wrap my fingers around his, and he squeezes a little. "Best friends," he repeats, and he's staring at me, with that adorable smile of his, those brown eyes, and this look on his face like he can't figure out what to say or something.

I guess he probably can't. _I_ can't, either, but I know him well enough that I can almost read his mind. I hope I'm reading it right. I hope he's reading mine now.

And I am, or he is. 'Cause he leans down a little, and just sort of gently kisses the sore spot on the side of my face, then straightens up, and I swear he's blushing. He's so _cute_ when he's blushing

And I am really, whatdayacallit, smitten. That's the word that Racetrack said, when he was talking about Jack and Sarah, and that goofy grin Jack gets when he talks to her. I bet I've got that same kinda grin on my face right now, 'cause Mush, he just kissed my cheek a little, and that was real nice feeling.

The thing is, I've been feeling like this for awhile. I never wanted to say so, 'cause I never felt like this about a boy before, and he's my best friend, and 'cause I don't know what the other guys would say. So I never let myself think of it like this before. But waking up like this, realizing that the only thing I wanted in the world was to see his face, I have to admit it. I got a crush on him.

And judging by his smile right now, I ain't the only one happy about this.

"You wanna do that again?" I murmur.

"You want me to?" he asks.

I nod a little. So he does. But this time he doesn't kiss the bruise, and it's still a real fast kiss, but it's my lips. My heart is beating awfully fast now, and I don't now what to say. Mush Meyers' lips against mine. I think I could die happy right now.

"You two finally work it out?"

Mush straightens up real fast, and I whip my head around. Racetrack is still sprawled over the bed like he was before, but his eyes are open now. 

"What?" Mush asks, turning bright red, which is awfully cute. Except that I'm sure I'm just as red.

Racetrack rolls his eyes a little. "I had a pot goin', people guessing when the two of you was gonna finally figure out what you really wanted from each other."

"What?" I ask, a little panicked.

He stands up slowly and walks to the door of the cell. "Hey!" he calls out, and I suppose the other guys close enough to hear are all paying attention. "Which one a' you bummers had your money on 'em sneakin' away after da rally, huh? 'Cause this is about as close as anyone coulda guessed!"

"Racetrack!" Mush hisses, embarrassed.

"What?" he asks shamelessly. Someone yells from down the hall, and I'm guessing by the voice that it's Spot. He whoops excitedly. "That's four dollars for ya, Conlon!" Race calls.

"Four?" Spot yells back. "Ya told me the pot was five!"

"I gotta take my cut, don't I?" he asks back.

Mush and I stare at each other. "You mean" he asks, "You mean, everyone else _thought_ we was gonna get together? Everyone _knew?"_

"Yeah." He grins annoyingly. "The only ones that didn't was you two."

"Ya coulda told us," Mush snaps.

"What would the fun in that be?" he answers innocently.

Mush rolls his eyes, and I glare at Racetrack for a second, and Mush adds, "Ya know, I think we should get a cut a' the money too. Maybe we can take Race's."

"Hey, now."

"Well, there is two a' us," I answer. "We could take 'im."

_"Hey,_ that ain't _funny."_

I look up at Mush. He looks down at me. Our eyes lock, we're grinning, Of course we're kidding, but we ain't gonna tell Race that. And besides, right now there are things I can think of to do that are a lot more fun than ragging on Racetrack. 'Cause Mush Meyers is looking into my eye and he's smiling again.

And suddenly, I'm really glad I'm awake.

[fin]

[AN: Hey, for a change, the abuse was canon and I just cleaned it up. You know, just to give my poor, abused Blink!muse a chance to not be in emotional or physical agony for awhile. Not that I would ever, _ever_ abuse Blink!muse. That would be mean and wrong. ::cough:: 

Speaking of my darling Blink!muse, thanks to everyone who reviewed the end of Cigarettes. It was, as always, greatly appreciated, and you all rule. ;) (See, sometimes they get together without angst! Heck, sometimes they get together at all

Also speaking of abused muses (because I'm sure you care, but hey, it's my AN, right? ::nervous chuckle:: ) the insomniac!race story is going uh it's going. Well, sorta; I just got back from a week of break, so I haven't looked at it in awhile, but will resume work on it tonight. Expect it sometime before the end of the year Possibly.

(Hey, dude, I just realized that I could claim Race is a creepy insomniac in this one, too. You never know if he's really asleep _Bwahahahahaha._ Except he actually was and that only just occurred to me, even though I wrote this ages ago, like, the night after I finished the very first draft of Cigarettes, because I needed some fluff to clean out the angst in my brain. Hey, I'm babbling now, aren't I? What was I saying? Damn, I hate when that happens.) 

To continue with the same transition, speaking of Racetrack, I think I had a dream featuring Max Casella while I was sleeping on the train on the way home today. Obsessed? Me? Never. I also just saw _Ed Wood_ last night Great movie. (And yes, when Max's name was in the opening credits, I started bouncing up and down on the bed squeaking, "I _knew_ one of the Newsies cast members was in this! I just couldn't remember which one! Aaaaah! Max Casella! Yay!" and now my boyfriend has started referring to him as "[my] precious Maxy." This can't be healthy.)

I should probably go before the AN gets to be as long as the story. Feedback of any and all sorts would, as always, be greatly appreciated. Thanks in advance.

-24601]


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